


andromeda, make us one again

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sharp as a mirror broke in two.





	andromeda, make us one again

**Author's Note:**

> i had a tumblr account for a hot second, which is where/when a very sweet anon requested i write a fic in which hux realizes he can't kill ren.
> 
> the title is from "bridle & bit" by owen pallett and the summary is from "run me through" by perfume genius.

A knife to the throat.

It'd be so easy. Easier than it should be to mortally wound a man who is not a man at all but an entity, esoteric and mystic. He's been so tired, lately, dipping in and out of consciousness like the lack of it is a warm spring. Never mind that he sleeps fitfully, and in short bursts that end abruptly and with gasps so harsh that they scrape even at Hux's throat in sympathy.

No, not sympathy. Nor empathy. He's poised to strike, and sympathy, empathy - they're worse than useless. They're distractions. Hux does not get distracted. Hux does not feel sympathy, or empathy, for Kylo Ren. He doesn't feel anything for Kylo Ren that he wouldn't feel for anyone or anything else standing in his way. Or maybe he does. Hatred. The kind of hatred that carries with it a clean, sharp sense of purpose. Clean and sharp like a knife to the throat.

-

"You are," Ren informs him, "singularly possessive."

Ren must think that he is very clever, or that he is in the unique position of understanding Hux better than he understands himself. He is not a clever man, and he does not understand Hux, not at all. Hux should be unbothered by Ren's stupidity, his foolish pride; after all, it could serve him well. But Hux is bothered, deeply. Ren may not be clever, but he is powerful, and he believes, with his whole heart, that he understands Hux, and both of these facts hurt, acutely.

"I am not possessive," Hux corrects him. "I am simply aware that you are mine."

Ren touches his face. Hux's skin should slough off from the burn, but it doesn't. It doesn't. It doesn't.

-

Hux could fit his hands around Ren's throat. Let him sleep forever. Grant him the rest he seeks with a palpable ache in the air around him.

That is far too kind. Hux will not kill him with kindness. Hux will kill him with a knife to the throat. Blood wet, warm; as fragrant and dark as wine. More intimate than a blaster bolt. It will require proximity. It will require vulnerability.

Ren is a vulnerable man. He cries, often. He mourns, mostly - the smuggler who raised him. The scavenger who tried to save him. The boy who the scavenger, the smuggler, couldn't save. It's pathetic. Hux tells him that it's pathetic, in so many words: "You let sentiment cloud your judgement. Hatred will grant you clarity." Hux tells himself that it's pathetic, too. His sentiment should have given way to hatred the moment Ren's phantom grip had threatened to crush his lungs, had robbed him of his breath.

Ren kisses him, and that, too, robs him of his breath. Is more painful than being strangled by unseen hands around his throat. His face is wet. Ren's, or Hux's.

-

Hux is useless. Hux is useful to Ren - speeches given, strategies created, fatalities avoided. Hux is useless.

-

"I want to make you Grand Marshal," Ren declares. The title is explicit, the desire implicit. _I want you._ Hux wishes, desperately, that he could believe that there is power in being wanted. That being wanted didn't mean that he was being kept, instead, like a dog on a leash. _Rabid cur._ Hux, at his basest, is an animal, and Ren sees through him like he's made of glass. How can he not anticipate the bite? Hux will sooner gouge his throat out with his teeth than let himself be muzzled.

-

Nothing is more fulfilling than power. Things are sweeter, but Hux needs to be filled, not indulged, and Ren is an indulgence, as overwhelming on the palette as a spoonful of sugar. Hux takes his caf black to compensate for the way Ren touches his hip, carefully, as if he's asking permission. His thirst quells. Unfortunately.

-

Hux removes the blade from his sleeve of his greatcoat. Ren doesn't so much as flinch - he barely glances at it before his eyes trail further up, resting in the hollow of Hux's throat. Hux sets the blade on the bedside table, and doesn't pick it back up. He is useless, and transparent, and tamed, but he will face his fate with dignity. This, at least, fills him with clarity.

Ren kisses him where his pulse throbs most resolutely. His mouth is wet and warm, his touch made with purpose. In its own way, a knife to the throat.


End file.
